


Can We Just Watch That Again Please?!

by orphan_account



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/F, Smut, Super Bowl, have fcking fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So the Super Bowl happened. The halftime show happened. Ali's tweet about the halftime show happened. Then this fic happened. It's Super Bowl smut. Have fun.
Relationships: Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger
Kudos: 60





	Can We Just Watch That Again Please?!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a smut oneshot, I'M SORRY. I'm aware of how irrelevant this is at this point, it's almost been a week, I've had it written for a while, but I never typed it up. Enjoy. If by any chance you are these people or know them, avoid this one.

Ashlyn Harris didn’t give a fuck about American football. Honestly, she was paying more attention to the ads, because she knew her friends, teammates, wife, and, you know, herself, would appear. During the game, she just watched Ali, who somehow looked entertained. She was looking intently at the television, her hair tightly pulled on top of her head, her hands knotted together as the first half came to an end with a tie. 

Ashlyn climbed over the couch to her wife, hugging her before the halftime show came on. Ali hummed. “Who’s your favorite player?” 

“You,” the blonde said simply. 

Ali rolled her eyes. “You’re such a romantic, baby. You really don’t think #10 on the Niners is hot?” 

Ash gagged. “I can’t deal with your bi ass sometimes, Jesus Christ.” The older woman slapped her arm. Ashlyn pouted and crawled back to where she had originally been on the couch. 

The halftime show eventually came on and- oh God, it was hot. Much better than those football players. She could feel that her wife was getting worked up, so she kept lightly running her hand up and down the inside of Ali’s legging-clad thigh to help her along. She knew she would profit from it in the end. 

The game came back on, and it went so slowly stopped so many times… it was such a useless sport. Her phone buzzed against her leg. 

_New Tweet Notification for Ali Krieger._

How’d she manage to do that without Ash seeing? Had she actually gotten distracted by the game? Impossible. Whatever. She opened the notification.

alikrieger: THAT WAS INSANE!!! @shakira and @JLo are my super bowl winners. Can we just watch that again please?!

She smirked at her phone. Her wife is so wet right now, she could already tell. She glanced up from her phone to see Ali staring at the television, her tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. 

Okay, fuck the Super Bowl. She crawled over to her defender and blocked her view of the tv.

“Am I not enough for you?” she asked, taunting the older woman. 

“What do you mean?” Ali asked distractedly, trying to peer around her wife. 

Ashlyn growled. Ali’s eyes snapped to her. “Don’t ignore me. Your tweet. Am I not enough for you?” 

“Oh no, baby, you are, you’re everything, but-” 

“But nothing. Prove it,” and within a second she grabbed a fistful of Ali’s shirt and pulled her up to roughly kiss her, and wrapped her other hand in wavy brunette hair. Ali’s hands snaked up the back of Ash’s shirt, tracing the band of her sports bra. When they broke apart, she yanked the shirt off and ran her hands over her wife’s abs. Ashlyn wanted her to prove how much she loved her? Well, she could fucking prove it. 

She dragged off her own shirt and bra in one motion. Ashlyn’s eyes went soft under all the fire. “So beautiful, baby. So gorgeous.” She reached for Ali’s waist, pulling their chests together. Ali quickly inhaled at the feel of the material against her hard nipples. 

“Ashy… I love the way you touch me like it’s your first time and your last.” Her nails dug under the band of her wife’s bra. “Off.” Ashlyn pulled it off herself, giving Ali a chance to bring her mouth to the goalie’s neck, kissing all the way down it, and when she got low enough, nipping at the skin on her collarbone, hard enough to leave a mark. Ash’s head was thrown back, giving the brunette full access. Ali decided to surprise her by slipping her fingertips under the waistband of her sweatpants and boxers. Ashlyn gasped, pushing her hips towards her wife to try and get more friction.

_Typical Americans. Always celebrating with their typical..._

Jesus Christ. Ashlyn cursed Budweiser for their timing. Whatever. You were only in a Super Bowl commercial with your wife once. They both looked at the television.

_...American …Beer. *clink*_

Ashlyn leaned over to kiss Ali in real time. “Please keep going,” she begged. 

Ali smirked and tugged a fistful of blonde hair. “If you’re going to keep talking all pretty like that, I’ll have to get the collar out,” she teased. Ashlyn gave her best puppy dog eyes to ask Ali to have her hand to continue its journey downward. She finally complied, and the pad of her index finger pressed against the top of Ashlyn’s slit. The blonde let out the first proper moan of the night. 

Ali’s voice was filthy. “I bet you’re happy we don’t live in an apartment anymore, right? But knowing you, you’d probably enjoy everyone knowing, everyone hearing you coming apart on my fingers. On my tongue. Just like the dirty little slut that you are. I could parade you outside wearing nothing but that collar with my name on it, and you’d probably thank me. Right?” “Yes, ma’am,” Ashlyn replied, her voice low. She loved Ali’s dirty talk. It made her- Ali slammed their mouths together, and who cared what it made her, because this was _so hot_. 

“That’s over now,” the brunette whispered. “Just wanted a little bit of fun.” Ashlyn hummed. 

“Do whatever you want with me, princess. Your wish is my demand.” Ali was incredibly turned on at this point. “This is about _you,_ Ashlyn. I thought I was supposed to be proving how much you mean to me?” she queried, making her voice as sweet as possible. 

“Get on with it, then,” Ashlyn growled, getting impatient. Ali’s hand pushed lower, suddenly feeling a hot wetness at her wife’s center. This elicited a moan from Ali herself, especially when Ashlyn whispered “All for you, baby. That’s all for you.”

“I’m actually not sure if that was supposed to be romantic or if it was supposed to turn me on, but it worked either way.” Ali leaned over to kiss her wife again, before finally pulling down her goalie’s sweatpants and boxers and slipping in a finger.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They woke up happy from a night filled with quite a lot of name-screaming and screaming in general, with the specific conversation: 

“Do you think JLo could make you move like that in under 5 minutes?” 

“No, that’s why _you’re_ my everything. I don’t think you’ve been listening,” and most notably

“That’s the only reason? I’m better than Shakira in bed?” 

“I said _JLo._ Did you see Shakira’s tongue? That woman-” 

“Are you implying that Shakira’s tongue could make you feel better than mine does? Because if so, let me demonstrate how wrong you are.” 

And they finally ended up lying on top of each other on the couch, naked, too spent to even get up and go to bed. That’s how they woke up. 

Ali picked up her phone after staring at her sleeping wife for a while. She saw the final score from the night before and cursed under her breath. “Ashy. Wake up.” 

Ashlyn slowly blinked her eyes open. “What’s up, princess?”

“The Chiefs won.” 

“Aw, well. There’s always next year and Mr. Ertz FC.” 

Ali interjected with a grumbled “It’s not FC, you idiot,” which got an “It’s football, isn’t it?” in reply.

Ashlyn kissed the annoyed brunette. “Turn that frown upside down, princess. Do you know who really won?” 

They both said “me.” 

“See, honey? Who cares about football when you have an adoring wife and an _actual_ football game to play ninety minutes of later?” 

Ali smiled. “How do you always manage to cheer me up? It’s so annoying. You’re so _positive,_ ” she said with disdain. 

“It’s a special talent,” Ashlyn said and wiggled her eyebrows. They both laughed.

“I love you, stud.”

“Love you more, princess.”


End file.
